Poles Are Bad For Your Friendship
by Hazel Maraa
Summary: “No, I really ran into a pole!” Harry tried to convince her. After all, who’d want other people to think that your relatives beat you? Especially when he really 'did' run into a pole! Oneshot, lol.


I disclaim.

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"Harry! Oh my – where did you get that bruise?" Hermione asked Harry incredulously as she looked at the gigantic mark staining his cheek. Harry looked at her sheepishly, but cringed at the movement because he'd scrunched up his face accidentally. 

"Oh, well, funny story," Harry rambled nervously. "I was walking around in the park in my neighborhood, and well, I wasn't looking, I was, well, looking at Dudley's gang beating up someone, and well, I wasn't paying attention to my, uh, surroundings, and I kind of… ran into a pole." Harry finished, chuckling weakly. Hermione glared at him for his oh-so _obvious_ lie. Insert cackle here.

"Harry," Hermione started softly. "does your uncle beat you?" Harry recoiled in shock, but Hermione took that as panic. "Because if he does, it isn't your fault. You aren't a freak, an abomination, or anything else he might've called you."

"No, I really ran into a pole!" Harry tried to convince her. After all, who'd want other people to think that your relatives beat you? Especially when he really _did _run into a pole!

Harry was walking innocently in the park by his aunt and uncle's house, just observing everything. Except, y'know, the pole. But anyway. He was walking along, and he spotted Dudley and his little gang of big peoples. Harry scowled and amused himself by pretending to be a stereotyped old person: shaking his fist 'threateningly' and shaking his head. "Whippersnappers don't know any better," he muttered. But then he saw Mark Evans, his mysterious half-brother that had somehow happened in the time between James' death and Lily's death; the mysteriously muggle-born wizard that he'd meet in Hogwarts in a few days; the mysterious mystery that was the Evans boy of number twelve Privet Drive. 

_Harry shook his head at these inane thoughts and continued surveying the scene while walking onwards to his ultimate doom. Just kidding. He was _really_ walking towards the pole that would be his downfall, but he didn't exactly know that then. But back to present-flashback topic type things. He was walking forward, how about we just say that? Okay? Good. _

_He was walking forward, still looking at Dudley's gang and the mysterious Mark Evans. Harry shook his head again, rolling his eyes at the inane behavior of his cousin. He was looking in the opposite direction when it hit him. Or, more specifically, he hit it. Or even more specifically, he ran into it._

_The pole._

Hermione bristled with anger at Harry's lying, and dragged him into the corridor of the Hogwarts Express. Hermione took a deep breath, and started shouting.

* * *

"Harry Potter is abused by his uncle! Harry Potter is abused by his uncle! Harry Potter is abused by his uncle! Harry Potter's uncle abuses the Boy-Who-Lived!" 

When Hermione started shouted these inanities, Harry looked at her incredulously (just like she had done moments before), and then he started trying to shush her.

"Harry Potter gets abused! His aunt neglects him, his cousin bullies him, and his uncle beats him!" Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs. Harry continued trying to make her stop, but she just kept _shouting!_

By the time that Hermione stopped, satisfied at the sympathy the rest of the train was now giving said 'abused' boy, she stepped back into her compartment, sure that Harry was going to tell the truth once he got away from all the fan girls.

Harry calmly opened the compartment a long while later, looking significantly worse for wear. His hair was even messier than usual, his robes were now scruffy and torn a bit, and his shoes were scuffed. You wouldn't think that this would be a big deal to anyone but Malfoy, but there you have it. Harry pointed to his shoes, and smiled at her deceivingly. Hermione smiled hesitantly back, before Harry twirled his wand around his fingers. And pushed his glasses farther up his nose.

He cleared his throat.

"Hermione… I realize that you thought that I was lying to you about the - shall we call it 'The Pole' incident? – and I understand that you were only trying to help. However, this is not what you have done." Harry dropped his calm act for a second and snarled at her. "You've made me into even more of a bloody _freak _than I was before! And you know that that's saying something considering I was already a freakin' _lunatic_, but now, I'm the _abused_ lunatic, thank _you_ very much!" Harry ranted angrily. "And not only _that_, but I also have a bad prescription for my glasses making it hard to see anything as it is, but now there will always be tons of _people _around me at all hours of the day, giving me no time to _breathe_ and that's just bloody _great_, don't you think? And added to _that_, I've got horrible hair, a messed up forehead, I can't spell or write essays to save my life – the only thing I can do well is _fail_ and even that I fail at! I can kind of play Quidditch, but where's _that_ gonna get me in life, huh? Tell me, Hermione, where's it gonna get me?"

Hermione sat in shock as Harry continued to list all the things in his life that made him a 'bloody freak'.

"My parents _died_, leaving me with my supposed _abusive _relatives, thank you _so_ much for that little confidence booster, Hermione! Because I _really _need it with the life I have! And then all of a sudden I'm lying about Voldemort, I'm lying about my home life, I'm lying to Snape, I'm lying to you, I'm lying to Ron, I'm lying to Dumbledore, I'm lying to the damn _telly_, I'm lying to my hands, to my pumpkin juice, to my kippers, to my porridge, to my _glasses_, to my damn quill – come on Hermione! What else do you want me to say? That I'm abused every summer break? That I feel guilty about doing nothing? That I wish I was like you? It doesn't work that way! You know why?" Harry spat at her. Hermione shook her head reluctantly. "That's right! You _don't_ know why! Because you've never had to deal with my life! And I am **_NOT _**abused!" Harry YELLED out loudly, sensing the people outside the compartment with his mage abilities that he has no idea whatsoever about.

Hermione's eyes were wide, but she quickly started yelling back.

"YEAH WELL I'VE GOT BETTER GRADES THAN YOU!" She screeched. Harry, angered by these fighting words, knew he had to retort.

"OH YEAH?" was his insulting retort.

"YEAH!" came Hermione's shrill voice.

"PROVE IT!" Harry's comeback came down on Hermione's head like a thousand pounds of dragon dung washed in silver. And yes, I'm aware that that simile will give you inane ideas of how it came down on her head. Hermione's eyes were lined with tears at this scream, and rushed out of the compartment, Harry breathing heavily from the argument.

Ron came in cheerfully a few minutes later and looked at Harry oddly.

"Why was Hermione crying/yelling in/at the hallway/everybody in the hallway?" Ron asked him, not sure which it was: was it crying in the hallway, or yelling at everybody in the hallway? He just didn't know. Harry seethed at him, but Ron still looked at Harry expectantly.

"Both." Harry snapped out curtly, not especially caring if Hermione was crying in the hallway or yelling at everybody in the hallway.

Hermione walked back in, and the three of them stared at each other for a split second before Hermione broke out into a grin and so did Ron and Harry. Then they all collapsed.

Laughing, I mean. They all collapsed _laughing.  
_

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A/N: Quite possibly the oddest one shot ever done by moi. 


End file.
